


The Only Reality

by lee_andrews



Series: Naruto Rare Ships Challenge [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biting, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death mentioned, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, Kisame-centric, M/M, Mentioned Uchiha Itachi, Mentions of Injuries, Obsession, mentions of hallucinations, thirst for battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:53:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25736848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lee_andrews/pseuds/lee_andrews
Summary: “Ha, you left an opening! I throw you to the ground and get you in the Red Turtle Death Grip,” the Beast eventually proclaimed triumphantly. “You cannot break free now.”His eyes were shining with pride, yet Kisame couldn’t help but laugh. He was annoyed and angry at letting himself get caught like that, but he couldn’t let the ridiculous name of the technique slide.“Red Turtle Death Grip? You just made that up!”___________________________________________________Takes place post-canon, mostly canon-compliant except for Kisame's fate.
Relationships: Hoshigaki Kisame/Maitou Gai | Might Guy
Series: Naruto Rare Ships Challenge [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856938
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	The Only Reality

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Единственная реальность](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26880292) by [lee_andrews](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lee_andrews/pseuds/lee_andrews)



> Spoilers for the storylines of Kisame, Gai, the Akatsuki and the end of the war in Naruto.  
> _______________________________  
> Content warning: Kisame thinks and says some things that I consider ableist, even though he respects Gai in his own way. I apologise, the shinobi world is still a horrible place to be in.

Samehada always had a will of its own. But Kisame would never have expected to be brought back from the dead by his sword, years after the war had ended. Kumogakure had returned the blade to the Hidden Mist as a token of peace, but Samehada didn’t want anyone there to wield it, and so Kisame found himself reborn one day, emerging from the body of some dilettante fool lusting after the legendary sword and the residuals of his own chakra and blood weaved into Samehada. A strange experience, even for Kisame, yet even stranger was it to find himself a missing-nin again, this time though in an unfamiliar world without any place to belong to or purpose to fulfil. Kisame almost considered assaulting a random shinobi village on his own and fighting everyone he’d come across there, but Samehada didn’t want to fight some useless lowly shinobi. And, to be honest, it was not what Kisame wanted either. There was only one specific fight he really thirsted for.

Yet as Kisame wandered the world, hiding in the shadows and collecting information, he found out that even that had been taken away from him the day the Green Beast of Konoha had fallen from the sky. If Uchiha Madara had still been alive, Kisame would have torn him apart for this. The Beast was _his_ enemy and he was supposed to open all of his wretched Gates to try and kill Kisame. The power that damaged someone who considered himself a god… Kisame wondered what it would have felt like to come up against something like that. The thought was excruciatingly exciting and the fact that it would never happen only made Kisame furious.

For a couple of years now, his thoughts had been revolving around that fight that was never to be. He became obsessed with it slowly, but surely. He had to see the Beast with his own eyes. They praised him as a legendary shinobi, but with each story Kisame heard, his injuries got more and more severe. If all that was left of him really was just a wreckage of a man, Kisame decided he would just kill him. If the Green Beast of Konoha couldn’t fight anymore, it was an insult to both his and Kisame’s existence that needed to be eliminated. Yet there was something else too: a feeling Kisame knew too well, a desire to find his place in the world. The Akatsuki were gone, and with them everything and everyone Kisame had counted on. He had no bonds in this strange place where former enemies were trying to get along in peace, except his bond with the Beast, forged in adversity and war, straightforward and honest. This new world must be full of lies, too, behind closed doors, in people’s minds, hidden away in plain sight, for no one could just suddenly become friends and allies after decades of conflict and strife. But the Beast would never lie, to himself, Kisame or anyone else, and Kisame felt a strange longing for that.

It took a while for him to track down his… enemy? prey? destiny? alone outside of Konoha. A cheap inn held by civilians in the middle of nowhere was dark by the time Kisame had carefully made his way into the Beast’s room. There was a patch of light on the floor from the full moon outside, but Kisame stuck to the shadows as he crept up to the man he was after, seemingly asleep in a big armchair. Next moment, Kisame was upon him, nails digging into his shoulders in an iron grip that was bound to wake him up.

“You will remember my name, or I will kill you right here and now,” Kisame hissed into the ear covered by a curtain of black hair.

“That is unworthy of you, Hoshigaki Kisame,” the Beast responded in an unusually earnest tone. “Also, you will not, because I’d kill you first.”

Kisame felt the pressure of a kunai blade at his ribs, not strong enough to break even the cloth of his cloak, but firm and menacing nevertheless. He laughed and let go of his opponent, taking a few steps back. The Beast let him: a kunai to the liver was really not his style anyway.

“For someone who calls himself a taijutsu master, you are awfully fast to use blades,” Kisame said mockingly.

“They are just tools. I use nunchaku, I use a wheelchair. Why not this? There’s no shame in getting the support you need to do your best!” Kisame saw the man’s hand twitch as if he’d wanted to give a thumbs-up, but then realised _who_ he was talking to.

“So, it is true then?” Kisame looked at the Beast’s right leg where the white of the cast seemed made of silver in the moonlight. “About your injuries and the wheelchair? Three times we’ve crossed paths, Beast, but now we cannot continue our fight.”

“Our fight is over,” the man declared. “You died and I vowed to remember your name forever.”

“Ah, I might have died, but you didn’t win, did you, Beast? Just like Uchiha Madara didn’t win against you. If you had a chance to fight him again, you’d throw yourself into it, admit it.”

The Noble Green Beast of Konoha let this notion go through his head for some time, as if he’d never really thought about it, while Kisame patiently waited for his reply.

“I would,” he finally admitted. “But not for show and not for the thrill of it. Madara as he was would be a threat to our world and the people I want to protect. I would have fought him from the afterlife if I could.”

Kisame snorted even as he knew that it was the truth, “Not everyone is as honourable as you, Beast. Some of us live for the sake of a fight and our deaths do not absolve us of our destiny.”

“It’s not destiny because you sought me out!” his opponent exclaimed, but then seemed to have remembered something, because he paused, smiled slightly and shook his head. “Actually, never mind. Destiny is a… complicated concept.”

“I see you are still having trouble wrapping your head around complicated concepts,” Kisame taunted. “You haven’t even asked me how I am still alive.”

“No, I haven’t.”

Kisame waited for the man to elaborate. He couldn’t believe a shinobi worth their salt would not even try to get their hands onto that kind of intel, so there must have been a reason. Eventually, the Beast sighed and rubbed his forehead, messing up his fringe, and added reluctantly.

“Maybe this isn’t real at all. I sometimes get strange, but vivid dreams now that make it hard to tell the reality and the illusion apart. Perhaps that, too, is an aftershock of the Eighth Gate. No one knows.”

“I assure you this is real, Beast. It’s real that I’m alive and that you are a broken old man and that we are never going to fight again.”

Kisame turned around and walked towards the door, Samehada on his back. He could feel the sadness in the sword, but didn’t quite know what it was that he himself felt. Disappointment? Anger? Pity? No, definitely not pity. He’d just called the Beast a broken old man, but, honestly, he didn’t seem broken. Maybe a little bit chipped at the corners.

Before Kisame could open the door into the corridor, he heard a rustle behind him and a somewhat ragged intake of breath and then a loud voice proclaimed, “I thought by now you’ve learned to not underestimate me! Your position is careless, I can see at least three openings. I could charge at you now and aim a kick directly at your unprotected head.”

Kisame smiled his best shark smile as he turned back to see his opponent standing in his signature “come at me” pose, though he kept his right leg off the ground. His black eyes burnt with the will to fight amidst the shadows on his face, which made Kisame giddy with the familiar battle frenzy.

“Is that so? I would block it with my left arm, using my right to unsheathe Samehada while you’re still in the air,” Kisame made a step towards the Beast, who stayed anchored to his spot, eyes trained on Kisame’s face.

“Then I would use the force of your block to somersault backwards and guard.”

They continued trading blows with words, one by one, Kisame slowly closing in on his opponent, hypnotised by the fire in the black eyes, drawn to him by some kind of magnetic force. The exchange became more heated and dynamic with every turn, both of them easing into the rhythm of this imaginary fight. Yet, suddenly, the Beast announced a very cunning grip that would make Kisame drop his sword. A grip that would be impossible for him to perform in his current state. The realisation startled Kisame out of the excitement of the battle. He looked at his opponent, studying his face, but couldn’t read it beyond the obvious determination. Kisame wondered why the Beast was doing it. He was not the kind of man to kid himself, he knew exactly what he was capable of, both before and now. Did he miss the fighting after all? The way he used to, defining himself for all the world to see with every move, claiming his rightful place as a warrior of worth, without arrogance or presumptuousness. He was annoying as hell, sure, but there was something about him that made Kisame secretly like having the Green Beast as his enemy, a man who would never kill a comrade.

Kisame realised that he’d been silent for a couple of moments now. His opponent must have noticed that, yet he hadn’t said anything, he was just patiently waiting for Kisame’s move. His last words were deliberate then, he’d offered Kisame something that he, apparently, wanted: a chance to fight with full force again, even if it was just an illusion. Because the reality…

‘The reality is defined by what people accept as correct and true, Kisame,’ Itachi’s voice from a long time ago rang in his head. ‘But what does it mean to be correct or true? Merely vague concepts… each reality may well be an illusion.’

The memory of Itachi made Kisame feel a familiar friendly warmth in his heart. He missed his partner, his sharp insight and his confidence. What would he say? Would he tell Kisame that it didn’t matter that the fight was not physical, as long as it made their pulses race, their concentration spike and their souls sing? These feelings were what made it honest and solid. That was their reality, and it was the only reality left for Kisame in this world. He wouldn’t give it away, both out of spite and out of a sense of longing.

“Congratulations, Beast, you made me drop Samehada to the ground. But I will headbutt you on the nose.”

His opponent gave him a grin that Kisame mirrored with the wicked one of his own. He stopped about two steps away from the other man, and they were staring each other in the eyes as their fight continued for a while. The air in the room was hot, it got harder to breathe, Samehada was in uproar behind his back, Kisame could hear the deafening pounding of two hearts in this room and almost taste blood on his tongue. For the first time since he’d been reborn, he actually felt alive.

“Ha, you left an opening! I throw you to the ground and get you in the Red Turtle Death Grip,” the Beast eventually proclaimed triumphantly. “You cannot break free now.”

His eyes were shining with pride, yet Kisame couldn’t help but laugh. He was annoyed and angry at letting himself get caught like that, but he couldn’t let the ridiculous name of the technique slide.

“Red Turtle Death Grip? You just made that up!”

“I didn’t!” the Noble Green Beast was scandalised. “I can explain it to you later in more detail. The point is, there is nothing you can do.”

Driven by some kind of unseen force, Kisame stepped forward, invading his opponent’s personal space. He bowed his head down and said, “I can do _this_.”

And then he kissed his enemy, his destiny, his only reality.

The other man reciprocated immediately. It was a culmination of the fight, deep, passionate, powerful, tongues pushing, teeth scraping over lips almost strongly enough to draw blood, Kisame’s hands in shiny black hair, his opponent holding on to him so tightly it would leave bruises. Kisame absently wondered whether it was because he was starting to lose his balance after standing on one foot for too long, or because he wanted to share the pain he felt in his leg. But the kiss still seemed to have lasted forever. They broke apart eventually, panting, and then the legendary shinobi who faced Uchiha Madara one on one _pouted._

“You wouldn’t have been able to do that in the Red Turtle Death Grip. You still lost.”

Kisame just smirked and licked his lips, very slowly and deliberately in a way that made his opponent’s eyes widen in excitement.

“Next time, I am going to make you open the Gates for me, Beast,” Kisame’s voice seemed laced with honey which made this promise sound all the more dangerous.

“Next time, I am going to make you say my name, Hoshigaki Kisame,” Maito Gai furrowed his impressive eyebrows, staring up at the man in front of him.

Kisame pushed the other man back into the armchair, only to be pulled down to lean over him. This time the teeth drew blood, but they both seemed to find it even more intoxicating.


End file.
